tell me someday we'll get there
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: Theo played a dangerous game, and Blaise wished he could hate him for it. :: Because Slytherins could be heroes too. For Ami.


Written for the Quidditch League, Round 13: Appleby Arrows - CHASER 2: Bishop: Write about a 'dark' character acting moral, using (object) chessboard, (colour) steel grey and (quote) Chess: The game where a pawn can become a queen.—unknown, Hogwarts' DADA Assignment - Task 2: Write about someone being tormented, (Word) Unforgivable, the Around the World Event: Oman - Spell: Obliviate, the Writing Club - Days of the Month: International Men's Day - Write a story featuring all-male characters and the Television Show of the Month: Jared Kalu: (character) Theodore Nott / (object) bed / (word) sharing.

Also for Ami (AlwaysPadfoot), who asked for Theodore Nott, angst&romance and (setting) Hogwarts on the Monthly OS Exchange at the HPFC.

 _Word count:_ 2672

* * *

 **tell me someday we'll get there**

Maybe it was because of what they were discussing, but the dungeons seemed gloomier than ever before. It almost looked like the walls were oozing something damp and slimy, while the lighting made everything take on a sickly yellow tinge.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaise asked. He bit his lips as he searched Theo's face for any sign of doubt, and sighed when he found none.

Theo smiled wryly. "I don't _want_ to, no—but I do think that I have to. I can't keep these memories in my head when I'm around my father, you know he'll find them."

Sadly, Theo was right. Blaise sighed again before pulling Theo into a lingering hug. "I still wish you didn't have to go back."

"Trust me, you're not the only one," Theo replied with a snort. "But as long as my father still lives, I have to do as he says."

Blaise bit back a growl. "I still don't understand why you won't let me take care of him." He was half pouting, he knew, but the small fond smile that bloomed on Theo's face was compensation enough for that moment of vulnerability.

"Not before the Dark Lord is gone," Theo retorted, fingers trailing over Blaise's jaw slowly.

Blaise shivered as Theo's fingers ran over his lips. "I'll hold you to that," he whispered, voice suddenly catching in his chest. He felt as though he was drowning and Theo's dark blue eyes were the line used to pull him under.

Theo smiled. He withdrew his fingers and just like that, Blaise could breathe again, even if his heart hadn't stopped racing yet. "I hate you," he huffed.

"No, you don't," Theo teased, smirking smugly.

Blaise didn't grace him with an answer, instead choosing to take a large breath and pull himself together. He held his wand in between his fingers, his grip so light it wouldn't take much for it to slip right through them. He stared at Theo, taking in the details of his face—the aristocratic cheekbones and small pointed nose, the high forehead shaded by the dark hair that fell over it.

Desire surged through him and Blaise didn't bother to fight it as he pulled Theo into a kiss. "You better come back safe," he said, resting his forehead against Theo's. "You hear me? Don't let your father hurt you in ways you can't come back from."

Theo pulled away. His face was back to its more usual serenity, all traces of his earlier, softer emotions wiped clean.

Blaise both hated and loved to see Theo look that way. He hated that Theo needed the mask at all, that Theo couldn't trust the world not to spit in his face if he showed weakness, but he loved that Theo trusted him enough to show him that the mask wasn't all there was to him.

"Like always, then?" Theo half-joked.

Blaise thought of the scars on Theo's back that he had traced so many times—old scars no amount of magic could heal. He thought of how stiffly Theo always held himself in the first weeks back to Hogwarts from home, of how long it had taken the other boy to believe that Blaise didn't want to hurt him.

He thought of how, despite all this, Theo still chose to help others—maybe not for their sakes, but for his own. Theo said he had to help Potter's resistance, not because he believed in Potter, but because the Dark Lord was mad and Theo couldn't follow him, that it wasn't right.

Even now, months after Theo had made that decision, Blaise still couldn't understand it. He was glad for it, yes, because it showed that Theo's father hadn't managed to break Theo's soul the way he had obviously tried so hard to do, but he didn't understand the urge to do good that drove Theo's actions.

"Like always," he finally agreed, because if there was one thing Blaise was sure of, it was that Theo would sooner die than let himself break. It was what worried him on most days, but it was also what made Blaise love him so much.

The fireplace flared green and Blaise startled. Theo tensed too, and Blaise knew then that they were definitely running out of time. He tightened his grip on his wand.

"Do it," Theo ordered, his tone dry but his eyes pleading.

Blaise didn't bother asking Theo if he was sure again, even if he wanted to. They had done this often enough, and though Blaise hated every single instance of it, he knew it was necessary.

He took a deep breath and raised his wand. " _Obliviate!_ "

Blaise could tell the spell took from this dazed look Theo took on for an instant before blinking the haze away rapidly.

"Did it work?" Blaise asked.

Theo nodded almost dispassionately. Blaise's heart clenched in his chest. "It worked," he finally replied. His face softened a little. "Thank you."

Throat tight, Blaise replied, "Anytime."

Theo smiled lightly before stepping into the fire. Two words later, he was gone, swooshed away to a home Blaise knew he hated. A home where Blaise couldn't reach him. He clenched his fists so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into his flesh, drawing blood.

Blaise sighed and walked back to the Slytherin Common Room, uncaring as to who saw him. It wasn't like anyone would mind, anyway—this year, for once, as a Slytherin he didn't have to fear repercussion for his actions. It was the one good thing that had come from Snape and the Carrows taking over the school.

It was really too bad all their other atrocities were too unforgivable to counterbalance it.

.

Life without Theo was torture. In Hogwarts, it was impossible to get accurate news from the outside world, and even if Theo managed to send him a letter, said letter would probably have been screened before, and if there was even the slightest hint of something the Carrows didn't approve of, Blaise _and_ Theo would have to suffer for it.

As a result, they had both decided not to risk it, even if that meant suffering through isolation and silence.

Blaise had been prepared, yes, but he hadn't realized how lonely he would be, or how overwhelming the dread pooling in his stomach would feel. He hadn't expected the worry and how strong it was; because he had known worry before.

It took him a while to realize that he hadn't known worry like this one, though—because this time, Theo would be gone for who knew how long and the Dark Lord would be there. So far he hadn't shown interest in Theo actually joining his cause, the way he had with Malfoy, but Blaise knew that was only a matter of time. He dreaded the day Theo would have to choose between his life and the brand of a man he despised—Blaise feared he knew the answer to that already.

He found it harder and harder to focus the longer life went on without any sign of Theo's return. His grades didn't suffer only because the Carrows favored him so much, he suspected, but the concerned looks they had started to give him in return made him shiver.

They weren't the concerned looks of teachers caring for their students, like he so frequently saw McGonagall give her lions—no, they were the looks of predators wondering if he was the weak member of the pride they'd have to cut down.

They would never find any proof, of course. Not only had Theo been the one to take all the risks, but Blaise had been taught how to behave by his mother. No one would see anything he didn't want them to see.

He did notice the Gryffindors were running more ragged these days. They were acting out more often and their punishments were getting harsher, but they were also getting twitchier—and not just as a result of the torture.

Blaise often found himself wondering how much of that newfound unease stemmed from the fact that with Theo gone, they probably didn't get any intel from the Slytherins.

Not that they knew a Slytherin was helping them, of course. While Blaise would find the irony of them getting help from those they professed to hate, Theo had stared at him pointedly until Blaise had relented, agreeing that it was a dumb risk to take. Gryffindors, after all, never knew when to shut up.

Still, the fantasy was entertaining, if less so when he didn't have Theo to share it with. It was one of the things they experienced as new every single time, since those moments were part of the memories Blaise had to erase, but yet, somehow, Theo never imagined quite the same scenario.

There was so much Blaise had to take away from his lover. He was always glad to see the small ways in which Theo never changed, though.

.

The days kept passing inexorably. In the evenings, Blaise sat in front of the chessboard he and Theo usually shared—it had been a gift from Blaise's mother when she had heard that he son had made a friend interested in the game. She had hoped that this would encourage her son to take interest in the game she was so skilled at, too. It had worked, though Blaise rather thought that his mother hadn't anticipated the romantic relationship that had developed.

The steel gray pieces stood inanimate on the board until they started playing, but even then, the metal they were made of never lost its cold, unforgiving quality. Blaise liked to pick a piece and keep it clenched in his fist, and no matter how long he did that, the metal never warmed.

His favorite piece was the white bishop. It wasn't white, per se, only a much lighter shade of grey than the 'black' pieces, and it had a slightly misshapen head from the time Theo had tried to practice his Transfiguration on it for his OWLs. The piece still complained about it every time they played.

Looking at it reminded him that Theo was real, not just a fantasy Blaise had made up. There were only so many times Blaise could sleep in his bed before the scent of him faded, after all.

.

Theo came back on a Tuesday. He stumbled in so late that Blaise was already half-asleep. The sound of someone tugging open the curtains around his bed snapped him out of his daze and he swung his wand at the intruder, its tip already burning red with the stunning spell on his tongue.

In the red glow, Theo looked as pale as a vampire, but the skeptically raised eyebrow was all him.

"This is my bed," he pointed out.

Blaise fought down a blush. "It's comfortable. And closer to the exit than my own bed."

That was a lie, of course. Both their beds stood equally far from the entrance and the bathroom door. Back on their first day, a fight had almost started out because of the placement of those beds.

"Of course," Theo replied with a small smirk. His jaw tightened with a suppressed yawn, and Blaise hastily scooted away.

"Get in," he said, opening the covers. He hissed as the cold air it his flesh, but otherwise didn't react.

"I'm still dressed."

"So take your clothes off," Blaise replied, rolling his eyes. It wasn't like this would be the first time they'd be sharing a bed, after all.

Theo's eyes stayed on him for a long time, looking for something Blaise hoped he would find. It seemed he had; because Theo nodded slightly and his shoulders unwound slowly.

Moments later, Theo tucked into his side gently, his breath tickling Blaise's neck. His hand snaked across his chest until he found Blaise's hand and entwined their fingers. He squeezed his hand, stealing Blaise's breath at the same time.

Blinking back tears and trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, Blaise squeezed back. With a wave of his wand, the curtains closed again and they were bathed in complete darkness. Oddly enough, it was only then that he felt Theo relax completely against his side.

"You okay?" Blaise whispered, feeling as though anything louder would break the preciousness of this moment.

For a long moment, Theo's quiet, even breathing was the only answer Blaise got. Before he said, "I'll be fine."

Blaise smiled and pressed a soft kiss where he thought Theo's temple was. He hit more hair than skin, but he didn't mind. "I'm glad," he replied, the dread in his stomach finally melting with relief. The worst was behind them, for now.

They fell asleep quietly, between one breath and the next.

.

Half a week later, Theo was back to writing down reports on whatever he thought the resistance, or whatever stupid name they called themselves, could use. The Library was almost always empty these days, but Theo's parchment was still charmed to look as though he was copying Blaise's Arithmancy notes.

Blaise watched him nervously. "You really don't have to do this, you know," he blurted out.

Theo looked up in a smooth move that made Blaise's heart skip a beat. "I know. I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it for me."

Blaise sighed and leaned across the table, pressing his hand to Theo's empty one. "They won't thank you for it."

"I know that too," Theo replied, smiling wryly. "But we're Slytherins—we don't do things because we want glory. We're not _Gryffindors_." Theo's lips curled into a sneer.

Blaise wanted to snap at him, to yell at him for being so stupidly heroic. To tell Theo that no one was worth his pain and suffering—that nothing could be worse the wounds he had come back from his father's with, least of all a ragtag bunch of students who had survived this long—Morgana only knew how.

But saying that wouldn't serve anyone or anything, so Blaise swallowed back his concern and sighed instead.

A mad idea came to him. It made him almost sick, that he was considering it, but it was for Theo. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Theo.

He licked his lips nervously and tightened his hold on Theo's hand, his thumb tracing smooth little circles over Theo's skin.

"Let me help you then."

The words hung in the air heavily. Theo blinked in surprise and slid his hand from under Blaise's.

"What?" he asked, the sound coming out strangled in the half-whispered tone the Librarian imposed on everyone who visited her Library.

Blaise only hesitated for a second. "You heard me," he said, watching as a spark of something light and warm grew in Theo's blue eyes. "I want to help you help them." The last part tasted bitter in his mouth, but it was what Theo wanted.

It was what Theo thought right, and of the two of them, Theo had always had the best moral compass. So far, he hadn't steered Blaise wrong.

Theo's eyes burrowed into his with an intensity that made Blaise shiver. "Why?" Theo finally asked, tone unnaturally even.

Blaise shrugged, feigning casualness. "I want to help you."

He didn't know what else to say—how could he explain the way not knowing anything about Theo's whereabouts and health for weeks had been slowly killing him? How could he describe the way that sometimes, air hadn't been enough for Blaise to keep breathing, how he had struggled to close his eyes at night because he was so sure he'd see Theo dead or dying in his dreams?

How could he explain that right now, the thought of letting Theo engage in something so potentially dangerous _alone_ tied knots in his stomach and made him want to curse someone?

He never wanted Theo to have to leave him behind ever again, and if that meant having to play the hero for a bit?

Well, the hero Blaise would play.


End file.
